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  • Samantha Jones

Coming Home to Myself

A continuation from "Coming Home to 26..."

“As I do my first walk-through, I feel it. The solid ground beneath my feet as I step through the doorway…. The light breeze that flows through the wooden beams. In and out, in and out. I hear it, the steady pounding of the hammer as my heart learns its new beat.

And then I see it; the light pouring in through the open space; shining down on the beams and sawdust, hammers and nails. Down on the mess that lies within the woodwork.

And for the first time, I’m comfortable.

The kind of comfortable that feels like home.” It’s odd… to look back on my writing. To reflect on where I was at that moment in time. What life looked like for me then. And what it looks like now. It’s entirely different. I couldn’t have imagined it if I tried. But something deep within my soul tells me I’m exactly where I need to be.

My home has walls now. And large window panes have been installed. I love how the light streams through. But it took a beating. The storm came out of nowhere. One minute the sky was this incredible shade of blue and the sun… it was so bright it was blinding. But without warning the wind picked up. The rain poured and the thunder rumbled into my core. Threatening to destroy everything I’d worked so hard for.

I lost a few beams that day. The hammering of my heart slowed to a pace I didn’t recognize. But the foundation stood. A little beaten and cracked, but it stood.

Although I’m still learning what it means to come home to myself, my heart has found its rhythm again. I continue to build on my foundation every single day; strengthening it with the things that fill me up. And I have faith that one day it will be complete.

For the first time, I can picture it.The walls painted with a thousand memories. Loud and inviting with the pitter patter of Scout and Tully chasing their human siblings.Up and down the stairs. Up and down. It's filled with an overwhelming amount of light and love and laughter.


And in the corner of the living room, underneath the biggest window, the sun warms an empty spot on the chaise; waiting for me to curl up next to the man who holds my heart.


So until then, I’ll just keep hammering away.





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